Noua
by LittleMissMorbid
Summary: Nine songs, nine ficlets. One ficlet rated 'M'. Don't like, don't read.


My contribution to the Shuffle Challenge. I hope you enjoy these little drabbles!

_01._

_For You- Staind_

She'd been taught that nothing could keep her from getting what she'd wanted. No one could tell her she was anyone different. Her parents said, _Emily, love, just because you're black does not mean you can get pushed to the bottom. Stay strong, love, stay strong._

So she did; she stayed strong, even when that little boy asked why she didn't have a black mommy. Even when the "love of her life" (otherwise known as Derek) had chosen another girl over her.

She was lying on her bed, her pillowcase tear-streaked. Here she was, _not _being strong. Here she was, _crying her eyes out _because her father didn't like her boyfriend. Her sweet, dorky, loveable Sheldon.

She sat up, wiping her tears away. She'd had enough of this.

"Where are you going?" Her father asked gruffly.

"I'm going to the prom," she announced easily, and stepped out the door.

Her mother smiled at her. They'd raised her well. 

_02._

_Katie Come True- Bright Eyes_

She was beautiful when she danced. He had to admit that. All of the nervousness, the stress, the act she put on to please others—it melted away when she danced.

He hid at the top of the stairs, his eyes scrutinizing her form, her skin, her expression. He loved watching her dance. When Casey danced, she was _real. _She didn't think about anything except her next movement; she didn't think about him and how much she hated his existence.

When Casey danced, the anger and hate she forced up just for him, it disappeared. And when he watched her dance…

He felt a little bit loved by her.

Did that make any sense? Maybe it didn't. But that was what he felt.

He just wished he could love her, too.

They were both trapped by expectations and _what-if_s and what _had _to be, as opposed what _could _be.

So he would continue his act. And when she straightened up, and stopped being true, she would start her act as well.

He could only hope that the next scene in the movie of their lives let them love each other. Just a little bit.

He could hope.

_03._

_All B lack-Good Charlotte_

It was easy to figure out why he'd never been loved. Being into the things he was interested in didn't exactly make him dating material.

So when the girl stepped into the bar, taking a drag from her cigarette, his heart flipped. She looked at him, green eyes shining strongly through heavy black makeup. Her skirt was short, and pale skin taunted him beneath fishnet leggings; her corset was the color of midnight enhancing every curve.

A girl like this he wanted to know.

She came up to the counter, leaning in close with a smirk. Her lips, the same tantalizing shade of black, were full and oh-so-_fuckable._

"Hi." He said, clearing his throat.

She held out her hand, nails black. "Gloria."

He took it. Her skin was soft.

"Trevor."

"You working all night?"

"Yep."

"I guess I better take the alcohol slow, then."

She smiled at him, then. A real smile, not a sexy smile or a smirk.

He had a good feeling about this girl, this girl all in black.

_04._

_Shake It-Metro Station_

She was going home with him. Why? They didn't live together anymore. They hadn't, for a long time.

He took one look at her, and she knew why. They stopped at the door, and he leaned in, kissing her, and oh god how she had missed his lips and why couldn't they get along when they weren't having, or about to have, sex?

Her stomach grew warm and she knew all resistance was futile; she wanted him, and she would have him. When they fell upon the mattress, he took off her shirt, taking one breast and making her gasp; he knew her well.

When her hands reached his belt buckle, he smirked, kissed her hard, and somehow she got lost in the darkness and the feeling and his lips and oh god they were underneath the sheets now…

When he slipped inside of her she couldn't think of one sensation she'd missed more than that, and when she came she didn't want to be loved by anyone else except him. Her thoughts grew erratic and crazy when he made love to her, and she loved it that way.

Morning came all too soon, and she'd realized what had transpired the night before. She also realized that she was too in love with her stepbrother. Brushing one curl out of his face, she watched him sleep. Mornings after sex with him made her want to cry, because she did love him and yet they weren't together.

Her phone went off. She checked the caller ID. Sally.

Sally. Oh, _his_ Sally. Sally, who had undoubtedly spent all night crying. Sally, who was wondering where he was, worried sick. Sally was calling _her_, probably in extreme confidence, probably thinking that he'd gotten drunk somewhere and _Casey_, his dear stepsister, would help find him.

Sally, who he'd just proposed to a night before.

He was Sally's, not hers. And as much as she wished they could run away and start over, she knew they couldn't.

When he stirred, all he found next to him was a note.

_Don't try to find me. _

_Casey_

_05._

_Natural Life-Breaking Benjamin_

Lizzie didn't know what was worse—running away, or lying to her family. When she got to the bus stop, Kate was already waiting for her.

"I thought you wouldn't show, Liz." She said, grabbing her into a hug.

She looked at her, took in the white-blonde hair, the hazel eyes, the lips. She took in the face she'd fallen in love with all-too quickly.

"What?" Kate asked, looking self-conscious. Lizzie put her hand on her face, smiled a little.

"Nothing." She said. When the bus was loading, and people were distracted, she took that face into her hands and kissed the girl, and Kate kissed her back, surprised but also pleased.

"I love you, you know."

"I love you too. We won't be gone forever, Liz. We'll come back someday."

Lizzie knew this, but she couldn't help but feel sharp pain at the thought that little Marti would be crying her eyes out, that Edwin would be by himself again, that Casey would lose her only sister.

But she couldn't stay here, either. Kate couldn't stay here, not with that insipid hellhole of a high school waiting for them.

They would finish high school at Kate's mom's place. At least this year. Next year was up for discussion.

Lizzie had to do what was best for herself, first, and that meant not living a lie anymore. Kate took her hand.

That meant letting herself fall in love.

_06._

_Bleed Like Me-Garbage_

It started during junior high.

Having siblings of legacy wasn't doing wonders for her reputation, believe it or not. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn't as perfect as Casey, or cool as Derek, or environmentally-conscious like Lizzie, or technologically-advanced like Edwin.

Edwin.

She was just Marti.

Anyway, it had started during junior high. She'd caught a girl in the bathroom fighting to hide the blood seeping into her sleeve, and when the girl pulled the clothing up, she saw it.

Lines. Red, crying lines of pain. The old lines were purple, mottled and bruise-colored.

The girl had taken a look at Marti, and hysterically begged her to keep it a secret.

"Why?" She'd asked, shell-shocked at the abuse. It was a stupid question. Marti had heard of it before. Health classes had begun covering it. But she just thought it was a joke, a ruse.

The girl, shaking and scared at the thought of being discovered, couldn't answer.

"Just don't tell anyone. Please. _I need it._" The girl threw on her jacket and hurried out of the bathroom.

When she got home one night, a few days after the incident with the girl, George had yelled at her for failing every class except Art and PE.

Nora had petitioned in her favor, telling George that Marti still had time to get her grades up, but he hadn't relented.

Later that night, she stared at the pink Bic razor for a moment before using a paperclip to remove the safety bar.

She remembered what the girl had said. _I need it._

Marti set the razor to her skin. It wouldn't really work. It wasn't like drugs or anything. But…what _if…_

And the addiction had claimed her.

Now, during her senior year, her mother was asking her why she wouldn't wear "that nice yellow blouse" for her graduation photos. And Marti was stumped. Panic grew into the pit of her stomach. Having Nora as a surrogate mother had kept her exempt from a prying mother. She hadn't realized how hard it was to hide when your mother was bent on getting her way.

"Why, Marti?" George chimed in.

"I just don't! God!" Marti sniped, and ran up to her room.

She could hear her parents.

"Maybe we should have the older kids come down. I bet she's just stressed because she's getting all of the attention."

So it was set. Derek, Casey, Edwin and Lizzie made plans to come down the next weekend, and the shirt argument was set aside for the time being. Marti sighed a breath of relief.

Of course, her luck didn't hold out for long. At dinner, the yellow t-shirt argument made its way into her life again.

"So, Marti's getting her pictures taken soon." Abby said, dishing up the mashed potatoes.

"Stop already, _mother._" Marti growled.

"What is your problem, young lady? Honestly, I can't figure it out. I want you to look nice, and you _insist _on wearing those long shirts. And it's not just the shirts. I can't get you to wear a nice skirt anymore, or god forbid ask you to come to the beach with a swimsuit." Abby finally asked.

The table grew silent.

"Stop trying to control me, _mother. _You have no right to come up here when you want to be. You're not a _real _mother." Marti spat venomously, and tossed down her napkin, bolting to the sanctuary of her room before anyone could get her to stay.

It was Casey who figured it out. She was an adolescent therapist, after all. But being Casey, she didn't say anything until she got to Marti.

"Knock, knock, kiddo."

Marti didn't say anything.

Casey sat next to her. "Look, Marti…" she trailed off, looking at her garment-covered arms despite the ninety-degree heat.

"Marti, I know what you're doing." Casey finally announced.

Her stomach flipped, and panic set in. "What? What am I doing?"

"Marti, show me your arms." She said gently.

"No!" Marti said, alarmed.

"I won't tell anyone. You need to. But I want to help."

"Stop it, Casey." Marti said, her voice high, tears brimming.

"Hey, hey, Marti! What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Casey sighed. Stupid Derek. Of course he had to come at the wrong time.

"Nothing! Casey thinks I'm some kind of… of… _freak!_"

Derek's smile faded into a confused expression.

"Then show me your arms, Marti. Show me I'm wrong."

"I'm not showing you a _damn _thing!"

"What, did she get tattoos or something?" Derek asked, sitting on the other side of Marti. She officially felt suffocated.

It was then she started bawling. She hated that she felt so weak. But it was all she could do. Casey knew, and her world was crashing down around her.

When Derek took her arm in one hand and pushed the sleeve up with the other, she cried harder.

"_Smarti." _Derek hadn't called her that in a long time. And she'd never heard that broken tone come out of his mouth before.

Casey got up and left the room quietly, letting Marti be comforted by her Smerek. She would need it.

_07._

_All That You Are-Mudvayne_

Max suddenly knew what she meant when she said she'd _needed time._

He saw Venturi's eyes on her when he thought no one was looking.

Casey was Derek's girl.

She always had been. He'd been foolish to think otherwise. Maybe Casey wasn't aware of that. She wasn't.

The great Derek Venturi was so in love with her, _he_ didn't even know.

But he saw Casey's eyes on Venturi too. He saw how she smiled, how he made her _feel. _He saw how crazy Derek made her.

It was love.

And Max…

Max was nothing.

_08._

_Stop Crying Your Heart Out-Oasis_

She had loved him. It was time she was thankful for that. It was time she let him go.

They had had their moments. The movie nights, the secret trysts. He had whispered his _I love you_'s after they'd made love. He had told her why she was his. He had kissed her senseless, made her feel in a way she'd never felt before. He was the love that taught her how to see.

Many people didn't get that kind of love. She had to be thankful.

So they weren't meant to be. That just meant her own meant-to-be was somewhere else out there. She had loved Derek Venturi. And he had loved her.

But Casey was his meant-to-be.

Sally just needed to stop crying her heart out and find her own.

_09._

_Centerfolds-Placebo_

It was at the airport that he had seen her for the first time in three years. He hadn't expected to find her like this. Svelte. Graceful. And somehow beautiful enough to make his heart hurt.

To see her blue eyes staring into his, telling him that there were still words unspoken and that there was nothing he could do about it…it killed him. It really did.

He wished he could hold her now. Give her a real hug. If he'd known, he wouldn't have been so childish and given her a hug. At least that. But he kept the game up. Kept up his lies. Casey meant nothing to him, he said.

She died thinking he didn't care about her.

"You gonna buy that?" the cashier asked gruffly.

He held the magazine in his hand, weirdly shocked at the interruption.

He took one last look into her eyes. Looking at the other magazines on the shelf. There was no sign of her and her pages. He couldn't leave her here. Not again.

Clearing his throat, he closed the magazine and put it into his carry-on bag.

"Yeah….yeah, I'm going to buy it."


End file.
